This article considers the function of twenty-two hand-colored prints of mathematical instruments in Tycho Brahe's Astronomiae instauratae mechanica (Instruments of the renewed astronomy; 1598), a hand-painted presentation treatise dedicated to Emperor Rudolf II and conferred on a network of individuals connected to the imperial court in Prague. Although the accompanying text communicates the instruments’ use and composition, the images demand close inspection because they articulate Brahe's observationally driven astronomy. They do so through structured, repeated, and consecutive representations; through expanded viewer access, achieved by adhering to multiple perspectives; through the juxtaposition of colors, which focuses attention on the heads of the instruments (the part that does the measuring); and through the use of gold paint, which emphasizes the head and brings to mind the very metallic nature of the instruments. Much like an astronomer taking multiple measurements of cosmological phenomena, these images allow viewers and readers, as they leaf through the pages of the treatise, to become virtual participants in Brahe's instauration of astronomy.

Prevention of public violence is a primary task of an ordered state. If rioting occurs, it is usually a serious setback for the government in power, a sign of weakness or even forthcoming collapse, an injury to the citizens' commitment. During a riot, governmental leaders are often taxed to the ultimate because they may lose control of the society in the uncharted waters of the mob; their policy-decisions can sink while awaiting enforcement. The rioters who participate in collective public violence lose their restraint, their individuality that previously caused them to respect authority, and turn to irresponsible acts they would not normally commit. For these reasons established political leaders place a high priority on preventing violence. Should it break out, their automatic inclination is to contain it. Some revolutionaries, on the other hand, see creativity in violence, are even willing to stimulate it, hoping that it will sweep traditional institutions away.

For almost a century now, Tomáš Masaryk has been one of the most famous Czechs in world history. He was nominated at least twice for a Nobel Prize and lionized by noteworthies across the globe. However, that esteem paled when compared to the adoration expressed for him at home. During and after his lifetime, Masaryk was presented as the embodiment of moral rectitude, cosmopolitan erudition, and democratic egalitarianism. By the end of the 1930s, Masaryk's association with the state he had helped found was impressively total. But it was not accidental. Many different groups and factors collaborated to position Masaryk as the only man capable of superseding Czechoslovakia's ethnic and political divisions, a devoted democrat to lead Europe's self-styled ideal new democracy.

In his classic analysis of state building by the Austrian Habsburgs in early modern Central Europe, R. J. W. Evans argues that the dynasty's eventual success in asserting its will over a conglomerate of separate, coherent territories with time-honored claims to political liberties followed the sometimes troubled trajectory of crown-aristocratic relations. The cultural impetus for political centralization was the mix of reform within the Catholic Church and counterreform measures taken against powerful Protestant subjects among the nobles and civic elites. By the 1650s the ability of Habsburg officials in Vienna to govern effectively the dynasty's various holdings rested firmly on a dyarchy of the ruling house and regional nobles who shared a common baroque Catholic faith and an investment in a system of court patronage that fostered collaboration rather than resistance in the far-flung empire.

When the last Allied soldier left Austria in the fall of 1955, Austrians could look back on ten years of profound change. Austria had been reborn in the spring of 1945 with the provisional government's declaration of independence, but from the beginning, Austria was faced with a material crisis and a crisis of identity. In those lean years following the war Austrians drank Blümchenkaffee, coffee so weak that one could see through it to the floral designs on the bottom of coffee cups. By 1955, the physical rebuilding of Austria, greatly assisted by Marshall Plan aid, was largely complete and the shortages of food and fuel were mostly a memory.1 Simultaneously, Austrian political leaders and educators had laid the groundwork for a new Austrian identity based on a mixture of tradition, Austrian uniqueness vis-à-vis Germany, democratic values, and the myth of “Austria-as-victim.” The time of Blümchenkaffee was coming to an end. Austrian coffee was now richly brewed, and more and more Austrians could afford to drink Wiener Melange—strong coffee mixed with steamed milk and often served with sugar and a small glass of water on the side.

I should like to begin by recalling my own occasional points of contact with Robert Kann. When his first book, the great two-volume work on the nationality problem in the Habsburg Empire, was published, I was a student about to embark on research on eighteenth-century Austria, and took little notice of any large works not on my research period. Later, teaching nineteenth-century European history, I came to appreciate its wide range and deep insights. By the time his highly original Study in Austrian Intellectual History was published in 1960, my career as a historian had prospered sufficiently for me to be offered this book for review by a leading British historical periodical. I commented very positively on his analysis of Abraham a Sancta Clara. Turning to the chapters on Joseph von Sonnenfels, however, I took the opportunity of presenting some results of my own research on Sonnenfels, which had only just been published and which I thought called some of his judgments into question. Unlike many Central European academics of his generation, Robert Kann did not resent criticism by a younger colleague; hence I have memories of some pleasant and stimulating meetings with him in Vienna during the time he held an honorary professorship there.

The Utraquist Church of Bohemia was unique among the late medieval defections in Western Christendom from the Church of Rome in that it involved the separation of an entire church, organized on a national territory, not merely an underground resistance of relatively isolated and scattered groups of sectarians, like the Waldensians or the Lollards. Moreover, the Bohemian Reformation was linked with a major social upheaval, the Hussite Revolution, lasting from 1419 to 1434, which historians have viewed as an early specimen, if not a prototype or the first link in the chain, of the revolutions of the early modern period in the Euroatlantic world: the Dutch, the English, the American, and the French revolutions. Building mainly on the Bohemian Reform movement that had gathered momentum since the mid-fourteenth century, the Utraquists' defiance of Rome, leading to the Hussite Revolution, was sparked by the burning of Jan Hus at the Council of Constance on July 6, 1415.

This article discusses discourses of Czech tourism on the Eastern Adriatic coast between the turn of the twentieth century and the 1930s using the Czech resorts in Baška on Krk Island and Kupari near Dubrovnik as case studies. The author argues that the ideological foundation of this type of tourism was a narrative of proximity between the Czechs and their fellow Slav Croatians. At the same time, the practice of Czech tourism was characterized by a pattern of cultural paternalism and economic exploitation toward the local population. It thus became a pseudo-colonial enterprise that distorted the Czech national myth of democracy, rationalism, and cosmopolitanism. Nevertheless, tourism still contributed to cultural mediation between Czechs and South Slavs. This article illustrates that point by highlighting the commemoration of the Yugoslav playwright Ivo Vojnović by Czech tourists in the 1930s.

Warren F. Kuehl's list of United States and Canadian doctoral dissertations in history is an important American bibliographical reference work which no historian can afford to neglect. Yet, scholars of the history of the Habsburg monarchy find it difficult to make effective use of this valuable bibliography, for the bulk of the entries which are of potential interest to specialists in the field are listed under numerous subdivisions and are not consolidated under appropriate headings in the topical index. For instance, numerous dissertations dealing with nineteenth-century alliances, with multilateral negotiations involving the Austrian empire, such as the Congresses of Vienna, Paris, and Berlin, or with the diplomatic relations of the Habsburg monarchy and the Austrian Republic with neighboring states are listed under such diverse headings as “Eastern Question,” “Europe, Diplomacy,” “Alliance System and Concert of Europe,” or “Near East.” While most scholars use library catalogs largely for finding works written by particular authors, those who peruse dissertation lists are more often interested in ascertaining what has been written on specific topics.

One of the ironies of the Revolution of 1848 in Austria is that one of the most attacked institutions, the Roman Catholic Church, was able to draw the most benefit from the revolutionary upheaval. By the time Cardinal-Archbishop Eduard Milde returned to his palace in the Wollzeile from his safe mountain retreat, the dreaded Katzenmusik (mock serenading) had died down and it was clear that real social reform, not to speak of social revolution, was dead as well. Along the way, however, Catholic agitators, including Catholic priests, had learned how to use the revolution to further their own purposes.